


Immovable Force Meets Unstoppable Object

by primeideal



Category: Chess (Board Game)
Genre: Chess Problems, Gen, Yuletide 2016, Yuletide Treat, epistolary in parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Cooped up without enemies to try his hand against, a knight sets out on a quest to visit all sixty-four squares.
He didn't plan on the eight queens.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reishiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reishiin/gifts).



> Your prompts were amazing, and I thought it would be funny to combine both of these into one story!
> 
> Thanks to seekingferret for looking this over.

_Day 1, a8_

“I've done it!” boasted Ebenezer, the King Pretender. He sprinted over to his honorary vassal, sheaf of papers in hand.

Sir William glanced down. “Not that I doubt you, sir, but how exactly did you do it?”

“Ah, you know. Trial, error, and a little help from Zenzic Mapping Services.”

William took the papers in hand, looking at the commands the not-quite-monarch had elaborately penned:

> 1\. Go SOUTH-SOUTHEAST 2.24 strides  
>  2\. Go EAST-NORTHEAST 2.24 strides  
>  3\. Go SOUTH-SOUTHWEST 2.24 strides  
>  …  
>  63\. Go SOUTH-SOUTHEAST 2.24 strides

_Caution: some routes might be unstable due to the local geopolitical situation._

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the royal claimant asked.

William hesitated. “Look, the bishops sure aren't going to, and the pawns would never have even if it hadn't been for the recent...unpleasantness. Yourself, the rooks, the queen mother? It would have been slow, painstaking, _boring_ even, but nothing to write home about. But if I try...”

“You can make it historic. I just don't want you to rush into some quixotic fool's errand for the sake of tilting at unreachable stars or whatever it is you kids call it these days.”

“We've been cooped up too long. I need _something_ to do.”

“Go well, then, and may fortune be with you.”

“If your map is right, I shouldn't need any fortune.”

“We can all use a bit of magic in our lives. Even knights-errant.”

“Hope that I _don't_ err, then.”

“Very well!”

So clutching his map close at hand, William took to the saddle, and set off for parts unknown.

_Day 3, d7_

Dear Ebenezer,

How I yearn for you! How I long for your embrace! How I desperately wish you would choose me above all other women! My heart is filled with hope at the thought of your wisdom and grandeur, at the memory of your noble, heroic image as I first glimpsed you years ago—I was still quite young then, but even then I could not but admire you. Yet even now my spirit is full of fear at the prospect you might love another, that of all the noble ladies in the realm you might set your glance on someone else. Please, let this be proof of my undying loyalty!

I would not fear a war breaking out, if it meant you could stand by my side. Oh, if I could only rush to your embrace, I would do so at your beck and call, and do so by any route, be it a row or a column or a diagonal! Yet I dare not take a single step out of line, for fear I tread on enemy territory. Alas, to wield such power and still be a prisoner among titans! Still, my mind remains fixed on you, wherever I am bound.

Dearest Ebenezer, I pray you will not be too aggrieved with me, for I fear there is rumor about that I have been treacherous. Yes, I was forced to endure the most injurious of slights to my pride. Another man barged onto my domain in a most uncivilized manner, and rather than having the decency to make a quick end of me like the old enemy might have, insisted that it was _his_ square, he wasn't going to move, and that I needed to cede the ground.

Well, I couldn't exactly step onto the other queens' territory, so we both slept standing up in what was one of the uneasier cohabitations any noble has had to endure, I should think. Only his horse seemed to tolerate it. Not a whit of honor have I lost, but I can't exactly say the same for my political reputation. I'll be glad to have seen the last of him.

If I could have handled this situation any better, do forgive me my shortcomings, and know that I still pine for you. Please, write back and relieve me of my solitude.

Yours forever,

XOXOXO (that's affection, by the way, not the latest weird castling move),

Dolores

_Day 16, f8_

Dear Rook Harrison,

A most surprising turn of events has befallen me. I send this dispatch to you because there is no one else who I trust so dearly as you, who served so steadfastly in wartime. The other queens are softhearted and claim that we will never retreat to times of battle; they are content with their narrow strips of ground. So long as they cannot see any threat from their own kith or kin, they are placated for a spell. But I am not so naïve as they. I am afraid that war will return, and when it does, we must exploit every stratagem we can to ensure a crushing victory that will last. Only by breaking our enemy's spirits can we guarantee our own safety.

Today, a knight came journeying into my square. No fearsome agenda had he, but he wished merely to stay for the day and then move on to survey distant regions. This seemed like an impossibility, and I told him as much, but he said that he would be no trouble and would stay out of the way. Sure enough, he hid out in the corner of my square, and made his plans to depart at dawn. Both of us, occupying the same square, and then him departing in a different direction!

Can you imagine what a tactical advantage this would be? Castling would be nothing compared to being able to stack allied forces together, then have them scatter in different directions or leaving one behind to defend each other. I expect you to draw up a map of our territory and provide me with a schematic of battle positions in which this could prove advantageous, at your earliest convenience. Of course, I fervently wish that war would never come to pass, but if it does we would be fools not to seize this opportunity.

As for this knight, although I tried to warn him, he insisted on moving directly to g6. Yes, _that_ g6, the one that's currently occupied by Queen Gladys and her “diplomatic summit.” She should certainly be able to find extra _space_ for one warm body, but _really_.

Your commanding officer,

Queen Fernanda

_Day 17, g6_

“You seem to have a surplus of _mighty_ fine lumber in your illustrious, ah, domain, Your Majesty,” said the shady-looking ambassador, “ _highly_ valuable on the overseas market. While my humble island home cannot match your military might, it is economically strong, and we would be happy to grant you Most Favored trading status, while not extending the same privilege to any of your rival queens. Is this not a desirable proposition?”

Queen Gladys hesitated. “What do you have to trade with us? I don't need any sheep.”

“Excuse me, ma'am,” Sir William interrupted. “If I may just get a word in edgewise—”

“No!” raged the ambassador, “I must have the deal completed _now_!”

Gladys suddenly looked down at her royal pockets, finding them empty. “This man has attempted to pilfer the crown jewels!” she cried. “We must deport him back to Catan at once. Guards, seize him!”

A guard who had been patrolling the corner of the cell snapped to attention, immediately attempting to apprehend the robber. But the “ambassador” made a quick escape, knocking over the guard in the process and giving him a blow to the head as he did so.

“Curses,” said Queen Gladys.

“Will your guard be all right?” William nervously asked.

“Oh him? He'll be fine, he just gets ideas above his station every once in a while.”

“I see. I'm very sorry about your loss.”

“If it's not one thing it's another. Last week I had these dreary peasant farmers begging for a spare meal or two, it was a bit depressing.”

“Maybe they could have used some sheep.”

“Maybe,” she said dubiously.

“I say!” said the guard, coming to his senses and accosting Sir William. “ _You_ look like a military leader of skill and distinction!”

“Well,” said William, a bit flattered, “thank you very much.”

“Have _at_ you, good sir, have _at_ you!” he cried, pulling out his sword and charging at William's horse. Before William could protest, and as soon as the sword harmlessly nicked the horse's mane, the guard collapsed in a heap again.

“The fellow is obviously a knight, not a marshal, for goodness' sake,” said Gladys, as soon as the guard had come to his senses again, “and he's _on our team_. Now make yourself useful and go stand by the bombs to distract people.”

“You lined the square with _bombs_?” William asked.

“Only a few. It's big enough for plenty of visitors anyway, so there's space for you if that's what you're worried about.”

“I suppose. Thank you very much.”

“Just remember curfew.”

“Curfew?”

“No movement after sunset. That's when the werewolves come out, and I can't be held responsible if anyone gets eaten here.”

_Day 39, e2_

Dear Bishop Caroline,

I confess that I have not always been as pious as other women or men. Yet today I write to you because a miracle has taken place, and you ought to be the first to know. How else can I describe what I witnessed? It defies the laws of nature; it could only have come to pass due to the work of some higher powers, some greater design, and I give thanks that I was there to behold such a moment. May this be an augur that the reign of peace is near at hand!

Today Sir William the knight was questing far from home, in need of sanctuary, and he was led to my square. At first I was still in fear and clung to the old ways. I thought it an impossible thing that he could come to rest here where I was. But the spirit of freedom was not bound by such prejudice, and led him to find safe harbor here in my dwelling-place. We ate and drank together, and he tended to his horse.

If two such dissimilar people, who the old laws would have forbid from coexistence, can come together, then perhaps there is no limit to what friendship can do! Perhaps one day I will be able to forgive the other queens for the wounds they have caused me, and rebuild from the separation we have imposed upon each other. And why stop there! It may yet be that our enemies, who we were separated from, can return and feast among us as sisters and brothers. It sounds absurd now, I know, but yesterday this scene would have sounded impossible too.

Sir William says he will press on, and while I will miss his company, I cannot forget the wonder of this day. Perhaps he will do even greater things than these in the days to come, and heal the flagging spirits of those he meets next.

Yours in the faith,

Queen Evangeline

_Day 42, c1_

Sir William had to concede that Queen Charlotte was, by some accounts, a practical woman. She didn't spend her whole day hosting consuls or sending dispatches. She knew how to tend for his horse herself without fetching a servant to do it. “Do you think I've always been where I am today?” she laughed. “I remember my past. Just as I look to the future.”

Unfortunately, some of her other self-proclaimed “skills” struck him as less...strictly useful.

“Come here,” she said in the evening, “let me see your hand.”

“Ah, your highness,” William squirmed, “I'm very flattered, but I really am not cut out for the monarchy.”

“I'm not proposing, you silly knight—not proposing anything except a glimpse into your destiny.”

“I think I have my destiny pretty well plotted out, thanks.”

“Ah. But do you understand what it means for yourself? Or for the world?”

“I don't need to philosophize about how big a deal I am.”

“Sit down.”

“What are you going to make me do? Smash a crystal ball? Swig some tea?”

“Nothing that complicated,” laughed Charlotte. “You yourself are already plenty fascinating. See?”

William squinted down at his hands. “I see plenty of calluses from holding horse reins for weeks on end, if that's what you're asking.”

“Crossing lines. Paths that weave and interloop until they spread across your hand, telling the story of your life.”

“Nothing too special, don't we all have those?”

“We all do. But none intersect just like yours.”

“There's another knight back home, isn't there? Lady Beverley. She doesn't get out much. I bet you she looks the same as me, down to the fingerprints and everything.”

“Perhaps. But know this; there is magic in your touch, magic you do not understand or control, but that will unite our world as surely as I and the others have so coldly partitioned it.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Hey, if I'm magic, can I use it to make my horse calm down sometimes? Or let it run for longer distances? Stopping and talking with all you kooks is getting to be a pain.”

“Always the great have the least trust in themselves. It is well. Rest, and let these things not trouble your mind.”

_Day 52, a5_

Dear Mother,

I have had a visitor today! How exciting he was. Sir William, a roving knight who has traveled the length and depth of the board, came and told the most fascinating stories about where he's been. The day after tomorrow, he says, he will be making his way to the corner a1; _my_ column, but that ridiculous Queen Charlotte's row. (Thankfully he thinks Charlotte's bag of tricks is completely silly.)

I suppose most of the board, that doesn't have one of us queens living on it, is disputed territory, by that standard. Stared at by two monarchs in perpendicular directions. It's the price we pay for avoiding each other. I'd ask you how you dealt with it, in your day—how to negotiate, how to exert control over the realms that should be within your control, when nothing is exclusive.

Except I already know your answer. You didn't have _that_ problem to worry about, because you were fighting a war. Deployed as a threat, fearing for your life, yet knowing you would hardly ever be put on the front lines because for all your power, you were considered almost too much of an asset to risk. This was the life you led, I've heard all the stories before, all in the hope against hope (could you ever really have believed it yourself?) that we would be able to live in peace.

And now that the war is over, this is what we've come to. Distrust and paranoia on every side, too many leaders to control the few squares we have, knights that have gone mad with the pressure, bouncing off the walls—just about literally!—without enemies to kill. Was it worth it? It must have been, I know. But here we are, with nothing to talk about. You cannot advise me on the dilemmas I face as a queen, and I have heard the sagas of your heroism too many times to listen again.

I can never repay you, or Father's memory, or anyone of your generation for the things you did for us. I can only hope that, if I ever have a daughter of my own, I would be as selfless and worthy a leader as you are. Should she be able to understand me and my absurd contemporaries, well, that would be more than I could ask for.

Tomorrow Sir William moves on to deal with Queen Bea. I advised him that she is notoriously cynical even by my standards. Hopefully she'll be in a good mood, but I doubt it.

Love,

Alice

_Day 53, b3_

“So,” said Queen Bea, “what's your plan, to jump around and visit every square on this screwed-up empire they call a board?”

“Yeah,” said William, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “that's my plan!”

“And then what?”

“What?”

“After you've gotten to the last square. What's your plan?”

“Well, I'm not sure. I'll figure it out when I get there.”

“You won't jump back to the square you started on?”

“No, I won't. Seeing as how I won't be in _range_ of the square I started on.”

“You're going to jump around the board, and not even be able to close the loop?”

“Sure,” said William, by then starting to feel a little riled up.

“Pfft, like you think you're so clever.”

“I'm very clever,” he said, moments before Bea's withering glaze made him wonder whether it wouldn't have been a better idea to blame the entire idea on Ebenezer and his mapping services.

“You remember Sir Rudrata, the knight from back in the day?”

William squinted. “Not really.”

“That's probably fair, he was trying to kill you a lot. The point is, he's already _made_ a perfect tour, out on whatever board _his_ team got exiled to. And it's even better than yours, because he made it home to where he started from.”

“Oh.”

“So give up! You're never going to be the first, why bother?”

“I never said I was going to be the first, did I?”

“Nobody will celebrate the one who comes second. Reach for an unreachable star, and people merely laugh at how funny you look. But if you reach for a star that's within your grasp, you might get burnt.”

“Then that's my risk to take, but not yours. Thanks for your concern.”

“You're welcome. Any time.”

“I should hope not any time, I'm not really planning on passing this way again.”

“You'd better hope that map is correct, then. Are you sure you can trust it?”

“It's gotten me this far, hasn't it?”

Queen Bea harrumphed. “I suppose it's too much to ask you to covertly assassinate any of my rivals, isn't it?”

“Not unless you want me to burn the perimeter in my wake and leave you with a smaller board.”

“A smaller board? You might _never_ be able to close the loop then.”

William shrugged, by then glad to be taking his leave. “I'll take my chances.”

_Day 60, h4_

Once upon a time, said the Queen Hope, there were eight sisters. And all of them loved their mother dearly, and hoped to serve her as was proper and fitting, each in their fashion. If the time came after great travail, and endurance, each knew that someday they might rule as queen. But this was not a fate to be anticipated, but rather a prospect to dread, for growing into the body of a great queen would likely mean that their dear mother had been cruelly slain in battle, and besides that, that they had been infiltrating enemy territory on a risky mission. Much better, much safer it was to remain close to home.

Yet no matter how long and how hard they fought, no matter how many battles they endured and how many sacrifices they made, how many diagonals they sidestepped or early starts they got, it was never enough. Each skirmish brought a new, and terrible, defeat. And rather than sink to oblivion, they would wake again only to live through another spell of terror, with only dim memories of the horrors they had inflicted on their, ever-living, still-victorious enemies.

Finally, the queen mother begged for mercy; if they could not end the slaughter themselves, could not break free of the cycle of death and destruction, there were yet higher powers that could intercede for them. And the meters of justice could dispense mercy in equal measure. The warriors would be separated at last. The ancient conflict was over.

Emboldened by her triumph, the queen spoke further. Even without the battlefield to test their strength, could her daughters not all earn the crown, together?

The distant forces paused only a moment, and sent down their ruling, and spoke no more. If the sisters crossed the board as one, they could all promote.

So they each earned a crown of their own, and for a short time it seemed that the land had fallen into a golden age. But soon the infighting began. With no pawns left to carry out the simple deeds of the kingdom, no queen would debase herself and stoop to the level she had once occupied without grumbling. They clashed over border squares, spatted on the perimeter, and had throwdowns in the center, while everyone else sought refuge in the box.

Finally, their aging and abdicated father, who was happy to leave the honorary claim to the by-then-useless crown to a very distant male cousin, decided that enough was enough. If they could not settle their own disputes, they ought to separate where none could see each other, not along any lines of sight. When they randomly scattered, they often found that they would get into each other's way, but in his final weeks he was able to come up with a systematic division of the empire into little queendoms, and vast swaths of land in between. Ever since then, this uneasy tension has remained, with a chilly peace prevailing but no one quite sure whether it beats the alternative...

_Day 64, h6_

William's horse neighed.

“Easy!” he said, stepping down to pat it and feel the solid ground of the board under his feet. “Relax. You did well.”

The horse seemed to calm down in appreciation, although William couldn't be sure.

Out of force of habit, William pulled the map out of his pouch, but of course, he didn't really need it anymore. It had served him flawlessly, just as Ebenezer had hoped, and there he was. The last square. He'd seen plenty across the disputed patches: grains of colorful wood and stark borders, and of course, the monarchs who patrolled them all. But what did he have to show for it?

And then suddenly—out of thin air, almost—a blurry hand seemed to materialize from the edge of the board, the empty space he'd been staring into moments before. “Sir William the Knight?” a distant voice asked.

“Er, yes,” he said. “But—”

“Message for you!” it called, the hand dropped a parchment at his feet, and was gone as soon as it had come.

Very cautiously, William reached for it. Could it have been one of those queens who were always penning things? Perhaps he'd made mention of his itinerary. But why the need for secrecy, and why so roundabout?

_Dear Sir William,_

_I'm not sure if you know of me, but rest assured I hold you in admiration, despite our ideological differences. Our finest numerologists have been keeping tabs on your journey, and we marvel at its mystical wonders..._

Instinctively, William skipped down to make sure Charlotte the palm-reader hadn't written it, but no. He read on.

_In a land ruled by division and suspicion, you have brought balance, not through simple rows and columns but through your ever-wandering spirit. Surely it was by your design (wasn't it?) that you numbered the squares as you passed through them, each bearing some imprint of your travels. And that each column and each row adds up to an even 260. So fair that not even the bickering queens can argue you'd played favorites!_

William, stunned, reached for his map. Oh, he had left a few signs of his presence behind—carvings into trees, reviews of horse stalls, dismissive criticisms of the campgrounds where the enemy knights had once set up—but would anyone know he had been there? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the queens would be obsessed if in any phase of his trek he had seemed to favor one more than the others. Yet in glancing at his map, it seemed his correspondent was in the right. He was ending his journey in the sixth row, after all—but he'd first jumped there on the second day. They balanced out.

_I suppose we will never meet in person. But I mean you no harm, and I hope that some day your peers appreciate the power of your magic, too._

_Best wishes,_

_Sir Rudrata_

William glanced into the distance. It was as the moody Queen Bea had said; he could not hope, by a single jump, to arrive back at the point where he started. Two squares forward would indeed return him to the eighth rank. But one square to the left would put him back where he'd come from the day before, while one square to the right would take him off the map entirely.

Or was that just where another a8 would be if it there were other boards set up out of sight, other worlds to explore?

William's horse glanced up at him hopefully. He took to the saddle, and leaped off for parts unknown.

_Day 65_

Dear Arbiter,

We've been really good. Can we _please_ have our enemies back?

This is getting boring.

XOXOXO,

the black team

**Author's Note:**

> Symmetrical setup for the eight queens: [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eight_queens_puzzle)
> 
> The knight's tour: [John Cook's blog](http://www.johndcook.com/blog/2011/04/06/a-knights-magic-square)


End file.
